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When autumn is mentioned, I don't know your thoughts, but a gentle warmth always rises within me. I create happy tales for myself, likening it to a little girl. The copper of the transforming nature is tangled in her hair, and in her eyes, there is the sparkling light of hope for the spring that will be born anew. The delicate scent of earth she picks up while dancing through the crunchy leaves accompanies her small body as she walks home. When she enters the house, there is

Sometimes I feel so tangled—overwhelmed, isolated, disconnected from the Creator. A numbness rests on my mind, as if I could feel it sitting on the tip of my tongue. Sour. And yet, the most beautiful memories of my childhood were always like this. My mind was used to working through that sharp scent; my sentences would flow endlessly, even when their bitterness sent a shiver through me. There was something strangely captivating about that sour trace inside me. I could read th

It was a curious irony that a child who once refused to eat would grow up to have a profession built around food. Yet, looking back, he...